The Black Mage's Sudden Throttle (4)
Work together...? What the hell kind of work with a black mage...? Is it some kind of commission...? Uh... then I need to get dressed first...
Only then did Idwild hurriedly cover her chest with her arms and rummage for clothes. But her breasts overflowed above her arms, her discarded clothes were clumped together soaked in sweat, and the shrunken heads on the workbench rolled off onto the floor... Nothing was going right.
The woman gasped in horror at the sight of the heads tumbling across the floor, but the man named Bertrand showed no particular reaction.
In her frantic search for clothes, Idi eventually pulled out a thick black robe utterly unsuited to the season, threw it on, and stood before the visitors again.
"Work...? What kind of work do you mean...?"
In the hot, humid basement, sweat dripped from Idwild's chin, who was clad in a woolen robe fit only for winter. Bertrand spoke as he eyed it.
"On commission from the royal palace, we're heading to Al-Jasha to investigate a mass murder curse. I need a black mage's help. Come with us."
Al-Jasha... the desert city in the central continent...? But a mass murder curse—what did that even mean...? When she professed complete ignorance, Bertrand gave her a look of utter disbelief and countered.
"The whole kingdom's buzzing about it, and you haven't heard?"
"Ah... I don't really meet people often, so I didn't know..."
It was a lie. She didn't just meet people infrequently—she never met them at all.
"I see. We'll explain on the way. Pack your things. We're leaving right now."
"Ah, uh... right now...? Um..."
Idwild twisted her body awkwardly in panic, glancing around for anything to grab. There was nothing. She owned almost nothing anyway, and she had no desire to show these otherworldly people her pathetic, filthy belongings.
Then it hit her—this wasn't the time to worry about packing. They hadn't even properly explained who they were or why they wanted her of all people.
"But why me...? There are plenty of other black mages..."
"They were all hiding, so you were the only one we could find. We'd been tracking reports of beheaded corpses turning up frequently around here lately."
"Gasp...! You don't mean you're here to..."
"Not to arrest you. Cooperate with us, and we won't press any charges. You'll even get paid."
Idwild found it hard to take Bertrand's words at face value. From willingly teaming up with a black mage everyone shunned, to offering payment on top of that.
Bertrand pulled a paper from his bosom and handed it to her. It was an official commission from the palace, complete with seal.
The woman standing beside him let out an exasperated huff.
"Hey! Answer already! You coming or not?!"
"Sorry... but if I go with you, it'll be a problem for me..."
"What problem? Spit it out!"
Evidently short-tempered, the woman pinched her nose and nagged Idwild in a stuffy voice. Overwhelmed by her intensity, Idwild hurriedly explained her plight.
She was three months behind on rent here. If she left with them, she'd unintentionally rack up even more debt. That was the problem.
"Ridiculous. A black mage short on cash? You think I don't know how much you get for slinging one curse?"
Of course, black mages could make money more easily than most. But that was only for those with top-notch salesmanship. For someone like Idwild—untrained, passive, and socially inept—black mage was the profession most ripe for starving to death.
Harming someone with black magic was illegal, so open business was impossible. Most operated through shadowy word-of-mouth networks, but Idwild had no such connections to begin with. Nor did she have the brazen confidence to knock on a noble's door and ask if anyone needed a curse slung their way.
And the biggest issue was...
"What?! Your landlord stiffed you on the deposit? Good lord... What kind of deposit scam...? Are you an idiot or something?"
"Sorry..."
Now drenched in sweat like she'd fallen in water, Idwild bowed her head. Even though it wasn't her fault.
"So if we sort that out, you'll come with us?"
The woman scowled at Bertrand's words.
"Help her? We don't have time for that..."
"Faster than finding and convincing a new black mage, Brione. Let's go, black mage. Lead the way."
The man turned and climbed the stairs immediately, and Brione, now free to escape the basement, hurried after him.
Left standing in the dank basement, Idwild dazedly followed them out.
"This all of it?"
Bertrand asked coldly, weighing the coin pouch in his hand.
"Yes! That's everything...!"
Idwild's old landlord groveled on the floor, spitting as he spoke. His eyes were black and swollen, blood-tinged saliva dribbling from his mouth. A few broken teeth lay scattered on the ground.
They were in the landlord's house. Bertrand had kicked down the door, dragged him out, and beaten him senseless without explanation. Only after pleas for mercy turned to begging for his life did Bertrand demand the deposit—and the landlord had scrambled to stuff gold coins into a pouch willy-nilly.
"Check the amount."
The pouch Bertrand tossed flew past Idwild's flailing hands and hit the floor.
"So clumsy... Wonder if she can keep up."
Ignoring Brione's jab, Idwild picked up the pouch, counted the contents, and pulled out two extra gold coins.
"There's more than enough, so I'll return these..."
"Keep it. Call it interest."
"Uh... but..."
Bertrand squatted to meet the landlord's eyes. The man convulsed at the eye contact.
"Live right from now on. Got it?"
"Yes! Got it!"
"If you blab about today or report it to the guards, I'll come back. Next time, you won't even know who killed you."
"Of course! I'll take it to my grave!"
The landlord slammed his forehead into the floor, swearing fervently. Bertrand patted the back of his head and stood.
"Black mage. Use that to pay your current rent and clear out. You can't stay put in one place long anyway, right?"
"Ah... yeah... I was planning to move this month anyway..."
"Good. Let's go."
Outside, the diligent summer sun already hung in the sky, gradually heating the air. The woolen robe trapped heat like a greenhouse; under the sunlight, Idwild was on the verge of fainting.
Seeing this, Bertrand called to Brione.
"Take her to the bathhouse. Wash her up and buy new clothes."
"What?! Me?!"
"You want me to do it? No backtalk—just do it."
And so, for the first time in her life, Idwild visited a public bathhouse and donned fresh clothes.
Afterward, a saintess dispatched from the church joined them, and they crossed to Al-Jasha to uncover the source of the black magic. It was the work of a high demon freed from long sealing. Bertrand shattered its four limbs, bringing the matter to a close.
In less than a month, Idwild was overwhelmed by Bertrand's casual kindness and attention. Even if it was no different from how he treated other comrades, to her barren existence, it was like rain falling after decades in the desert.
Warm food, clean clothes, a soft bed, comrades' chatter and laughter, Al-Jasha's dry winds, the gentle sand underfoot. Every moment etched an indelible mark into Idwild's monochrome mind.
But she was a cursed black mage. Like a black oil stain dropped incongruously into a vibrant flowerbed, she didn't belong... or so she thought.
Once it was all over and she'd received her promised pay, Idwild was alone again. She returned to her wretched routine, wandering aimlessly as before.
Yet her life was forever changed. Like darkness after glimpsing light feels even deeper.
In her aimless wandering, Idwild discovered an abandoned castle in the mountains near Rosens and settled there completely.
The rest of the story's the same... Hungry, cold, lonely... Hehe...
Idi scratched Kali's back and belly all over before standing.
Kali looked up at her curiously as the petting suddenly stopped.
"Hehe... Kali's so pretty... Sis'll feed you later..."
Returning alone, she found Brione and Bertrand still chatting at the bar. Brione was laughing heartily, even clapping—what could be so funny? Probably tales of old adventures she knew nothing about... Dramatic, perilous stories for sure... The kind they could now laugh about as fond memories...
Looking back, Idi had no one to reminisce with. If anyone, just Bertrand and Brione sitting there. But she couldn't join them. They still lived in a different world from her, just like back then.
Idi stared vacantly at them a moment longer, then turned toward the table calling for her order.
Brione didn't leave the hall even late into the night, sitting by my side, drinking and prattling on.
Good thing I'd warned her beforehand not to mention my hero exploits in front of others, or the rumors would've spread like wildfire.
But Brione didn't care much. No one would believe tales of chasing off dragons, stopping volcanic eruptions, sinking islands, and butchering demons anyway—she was right.
Celereja glared at Brione with deep dissatisfaction.
The saintess had gone all out today: a short sleeveless crop top exposing her navel and hot pants barely more than panties. Anyone would mistake her for a barmaid, not a holy woman.
But seeing a strange woman glued to my side, acting all chummy, was bound to piss her off.
"You seem to know Bertrand well?"
Celereja's sharp words drew a leisurely laugh from Brione.
"Of course. We adventured together for years."
Celereja's face drained to ashen gray, her glare shifting slowly to me.
"What does that mean exactly...?"
Her voice trembled faintly despite the casual tone. She'd jumped to some massive misunderstanding on her own.
"Bertrand... you're not married, are you...?"
Oh boy... How did she leap to that absurd conclusion?
"Do I look married to you, Saintess?"
"Ah... or maybe an ex-lover...?"
But I couldn't answer. I'd spotted Marim sneaking toward the basement stairs.
"Hey! Where you going?!"
"Eep! Busted..."
Marim scratched her head sheepishly, grinning.
"Just wanted a beer before bed... Hehe. Okay if I do?"
"Then come here and let me pour you one—why the basement?"
"You were talking. Didn't wanna interrupt."
I beckoned her over, and she approached silently with light steps.
"Whoa, a half-elf. Ears are huge."
Brione observed Marim, who grinned receiving the beer I poured, with fascination.
"First half-elf you've seen?"
"Up close, yeah. You only inherit the eye color and ears?"
"If dad's the elf side. If mom's elf, you're basically pureblood in looks."
"So your dad's the elf? Can I touch?"
"Go ahead."
Marim cheerfully tilted her head, offering her long ear even to Brione's potentially rude request. Brione fondled the soft ear, cooing over how nice it felt.
Brione was bad enough, but now a half-elf joined in—Celereja looked ready to explode. She'd gotten no clear answer on whether Brione was an ex, leaving her fuming.
I wanted to get rid of them quick to be alone with Celereja, pondering how, when the inn door opened. Hildeva entered barefoot, shoes in hand.
"Busy tonight? Perfect. I feel like drinking."
Her thunderbolt declaration turned Celereja's face corpse-pale, like she'd starved for a month.
Brione the boozehound perked up, and Marim—who'd wanted beer anyway—grinned at the excuse.
Sigh... Tough break for the saintess, but... Guess we're boozing hard tonight.
With so many drinkers, we needed snacks. I called Pelle, since we'd need lots of ingredients—time to undo the preservation ritual.
Pelle brought out the released foodstuffs, and I whipped up simple bar fare: thin square bread topped with cheese, cucumber, and tomato, drizzled with a vinegar-olive oil mix. Perfect with beer or wine.
"Have some."
"I'll gain weight."
Pelle ignored my offer and breezed out of the kitchen. She was slim enough; a little padding wouldn't hurt...
Laughter from the hall echoed behind Pelle ascending the stairs.
Inns naturally turned rowdy late at night with drinks flowing—no guests kicked doors open over the noise.
Reaching the third floor quietly, Pelle spotted Idwild pacing the dark hallway.
"Uh...? Pelle..."
Pelle turned to ignore her and enter her room, but the black mage's greeting forced a glance back.
"What're you doing in a pitch-black hall?"
"Ah... just couldn't sleep... Hehe..."
"I see. Slacked off today, huh?"
"Not that... Night, Pelle..."
Pelle was curt with everyone, but not entirely heartless toward Idwild, who was always kind to her.
Releasing the doorknob, she asked,
"Something wrong, black mage?"
"Uh...? No... Nothing..."
Idi waved it off but dropped her gaze under Pelle's cool stare.
"Come in. I don't wanna chat in a dark hall."